The overall image of The Flapper during the Roaring Twenties is one that most anyone can envision. Flappers wore short hair, slinky silk dresses often covered with glistening beaded fringe and rhinestone bling. They had careers, or at least a job, and many drove automobiles. At night, the women met at secret speakeasies where they danced the Charleston, drank alcohol and smoked using glamorous, long bakelite cigarette holders. Their twinkling metallic purses carried their own money, lipstick and crimson rouge…but most of all, a flapper always wore a hat.
It was a particular kind of hat. Called a cloche due to the bell-shaped silhouette, the hat was styled to tightly hug the head. In fact, cloches were often so tightly fitted, that the wearer had to struggle for a second or two in order to pop the hat down over her ears.
A cloche was often pulled down so far over the head that one could barely see both eyebrows, which were pencil thin and plucked away almost entirely. This low riding hat emphasized the eyes, which were usually darkly shadowed with make-up.
“It’s the brim that makes the hat alluring, following the trail of the eyebrow.”
Throughout the 1920s, the dimensions of the brims changed the look of a cloche, but it was a necessity in design to keep that deep eyebrow skimming line. Knees could be seen, but foreheads were covered.
Cloches are one way of accurately dating and documenting photographs and illustrations from that era. Whether wide brims, angled brims or no brims; the type of materials, hand-embroidery, beaded and even hand-painted designs on cloches may be used to accurately track down the year or even the very month to when the hat was sold. Cloche design motifs and patterns were heavily reported during the 1920s in newspapers, magazines and trade publications. A 1920’s cloche was the ultimate personal statement of who a woman was.
According to “The Illustrated Milliner” vol 29 May 1928, it was necessary to have a cloche with a brim of some kind for the spring and summer of that year. While many brims flared out to create a true big-bell design silhouette, there were tightly fitting cloches with brims that were folded up and stitched against the crown of the hat. Although this may seem like a brimless hat, it was not described as such during 1928.
The Illustrated Milliner’s editor decreed, “Every hat must have a brim, even helmets and toques, the verdict of Paris.” One the new “up-over-one-eye hats” favored at the Paris shows that year “was made from knitted, super-fine jersey straw.” These were worn by “the smartest of smart women. At luncheon yesterday at the Ritz I counted twenty of them, each in a different color scheme.”
Cloche styled hats rank historically as one of the most artistic and creative accessory designs in fashion history. Elaborate trims were created by milliners who worked at their salons like artists sculpting in their studios. Many trims were easily changed out so that the hat design could match any number of dresses. Women had personal ways of adorning their hats and often used rhinestone or bakelite brooches, although wealthy women did not hesitate to pin on a diamond or two.
Colors for cloche styles were chosen by the millinery industry’s Allied Millinery Association and were carefully reported on in the May issue of “The Illustrated Milliner.” Since it was practical to say that every single woman in the United States owned at least one hat during 1928, even the simplest mention of color made a huge impact on the fashion market.
According to guest fashion journalist Margaret Hayden Rorke, managing director of The Textile Color Card Association of the USA, the ten colors chosen for summer 1928 included:
“CORNSILK: a mellow yellow, the color of that fluffy silken tassel that so proudly bedecks the ripped corn.”
“LUCERNE BLUE: a light, dulcet violet tinted blue, like…azure waters of that…Swiss lake mirroring the dome of the sky….”
“BELLEEK: A delicate, intriguing off-white shade, is that creamy tint of eggshell porcelain called Belleek, which for so many years Ireland has made famous.”
“LILY GREEN: Is a delightful shade, light in value with just enough yellow in its composition to add verve.”
“TRIUMPH BLUE: Is a medium blue very rich in tone, slightly greenish in cast…. It’s the blue of the sky in its first mood of twilight, and is named in honor of Lindbergh’s triumphant flight.”
“GULL: A pale grey of slightly rosy cast, is the sparkling color of the seagull’s wings as it flies from the crest of a wave up to the sun.”
“CASTILION RED: That vivacious, scintillating hue of Old Spain, suggestive of flashing dark eyes, a fan and a mantilla – the color that Goya…so deftly applied to high-light his canvasses.”
“PEACHBEIGE: …a beige with a peach-bluish tone, so becoming to all types of femininity.”
“PINE FROST: Another charming green – one of the new Shadow Shades, is a silvery grey-green shade, for all the world like frost glistening on stately pine trees.”
“DIADEM: A tender orchid shade…a royal shade as beautiful as the delicate tinted dahlia…from which its name is borrowed.”
Cloches are pictured in nearly every publication during this period. Photographs depict millinery models wearing cloches styled with furs, various types of ostrich boas or while holding huge “petal” fans made from silk marquisette (a wispy meshed fabric) stretched across bakelite sticks.
Obviously, fashion designers working during the The Roaring Twenties were nearly at their ultimate pitch in glamour that summer.
The fashion industry would continue to produce luxurious fashions…one topping the next, for just about another year.
Then…on an autumn day dated October 29, 1929…a historic day coined Black Tuesday…the stock market crashed…and the fabulous fashions and glam of the Roaring Twenties essentially ended.
“Some people start out to see the rainbow over Niagara Falls,
the totem poles in Seattle or the Adobe Houses in New Mexico, but we were geared for fashion.”
Designer Isabel De Nyse Conover was the Jessica Simpson of her day. Feisty, artful and respected, her designs reflected a gracious elegance during the Roaring Twenties.
Not only a designer, Isabel was also Fashion Editor for Woman’s Home Companion. Her assignment for the July 1926 issue was to travel across the United States and compare styles favored by the women who lived there. Based on her impressions during the trip, Conover was directed to design 9 dresses inspired by her findings.
These are her designs, along with her edited notes taken from her travel journal about each city, as published.
Conover and her editorial staff companions, Willa Roberts and Corinne Dillon traveled from New York City to Atlanta, New Orleans, Dallas, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, Salt Lake City, Omaha and finally, Chicago.
Willa Roberts acted as both general assistant and editor on this particular escapade, while Corinna Dillon was illustrator who made Conover’s fashion designs come alive. In 1926, it was considered daring for women to travel without a man, especially on a transcontinental tour for business purposes. Conover wrote in her log that their hotel reservations were made by Willa Roberts, since her name was most easily changed to “William” Roberts for the sake of appearances.
Beginning at NYC’s Penn Station, the threesome enjoyed traveling to Atlanta, Georgia on one of the most elegant trains in service, the Crescent Limited. Now considered one of the most luxurious trains that ever traveled, the women were booked into one of the opulent, two-toned green Pullmans, which contained three separate, comfortable sleeping bunks.
“We congratulated each other on being attached to a national publication,” states Conover, especially since they were aboard the Limited, because their trip was entirely paid for by Woman’s Home Companion.
“Now that I have owned up to F.E. (Fashion Editor), you may jump to the conclusion that our (hat) box contained hats…(but) reporting fashions requires munitions, scratch pads, drawing paper, board, pencils, loose-leaf notebooks, Paris cables, and style comparisons.” Conover added that their calfskin hat box case was so tightly overpacked that it put a hump in one of their berths, when stored beneath. They had decided from the beginning that “we were out not to spring a new style on an unsuspecting Atlanta, Dallas or Los Angeles, but (we wanted to gather) impressions.”
“Our train rumbled into Atlanta in the twilight…we hailed a taxi and were whisked up Peachtree Street to the hotel…. There is a certain romantic feeling about motoring, tramping and shopping up at Peachtree Street…. My impression of Atlanta is the Peach Tree frock.” (illustration above)
“We stepped down from the train in New Orleans in the midst of a banana men’s convention. But I couldn’t work up much enthusiasm over a banana-colored dress. The next day we went through the candy kitchen of a large department store and my mind was full of spun sugar textures, caramel colors or peppermint stripes. But after I had my lunch, my interest in eatable impressions waned.”
“Due to good Louisiana cooking, we were in need of exercise so we did the old French quarter on foot…. After we caught the train…conversation revolved around Bienville and other gay cavaliers who are responsible for New Orleans being where it is.”
This conversation inspired Conover to design a “gallant, dashing” coat, directly inspired “from a French courtier’s costume of 1718.”
“Perhaps it’s because we came into Dallas at sunrise that it seems such a mirage in the plain. To me (Dallas) is a city to be exclaimed over, (with) high buildings springing from the flatness of the plains like an Arabian Nights picture. Sharp contrasts, high tempo. I think of it as a young city where one sees dash, daring and diamonds.”
“I put my Dallas impressions into a frock of contrasts…straight and flaring lines, black and white silk.”
“In one afternoon we drove over forty miles of Los Angeles streets and saw four thousand Spanish homes, to say nothing of missions thrown in on Sundays.”
Conover described the Spanish influences that practically overwhelmed her, “Spanish shawls, picturesque evening dresses with fitted bodices and long skirts (with) distended hips after the (old) court fashions…and Spanish lace…. oh, I could design a dozen dresses…instead of just one.”
Gray. Isabel describes a world wrapped in fog at San Francisco, a land with sharp “hills (against) classic buildings swathed in lovely misty gray. And the sea gulls…. Our trips back and forth to Berkeley are responsible for the filmy gray chiffon frock” that was designed to commemorate this city.
San Francisco, she wrote, is “a city with French imported frocks in the shop windows, and women everywhere who wore their clothes with an air. Then there are the sea gulls, as permanent a part of the seascape as the bay itself…and…(there was) that mist clung to the steep sides of the hills.”
“First thing in the morning when we looked out of our hotel window, in Seattle, we saw ships at anchor in Puget Sound. And we kept on seeing ships all day long.
It gave me something of a start to walk down a business street and stumble onto a miniature lake with a full-sized ocean-going ship riding serenely in the center of it. Having its barnacles taken off in fresh water, they told us. Whatever its errand in the business section of Seattle, it was a vivid picture.
There were the locks, too, and the shops, the interesting little shops that showed the jades and crystals that the ships brought from Shanghai and Hongkong.
On every side we were reminded of the Orient. I liked Seattle and I hope that Seattle like my impression of it that made me think of a China-blue frock and lacquer-red parasol.”
SALT LAKE CITY
“Zigzagging down to Salt Lake City, I thought I should have time to read a little history. But there was always a new mountain ahead of the train and by the time I had counted and classified some of the trees on it, there was another just coming into view. I had to go to bed early because I had to get up at sunrise in order not to miss the next mountains.”
“A log cabin nestling under its substantial marble hood, the first hour in Utah, is just one of the reminders of the covered-wagon days. We called it the Pioneer City, and to it I have dedicated a dress designed in the fashion of 1847, and very much in the style of 1926.”
“I was busy with the guidebook that told blood-curdling tales of the building of the railroad.
I was thrilled when we rounded a corner and faced a wooden Indian outside of a cigar store
There is no question about Omaha. It is cultured, groomed, sophisticated now, but it used to be the land of the Indians.
For Omaha I have taken artist’s license and adapted an Indian costume to the trim lines of a little daytime frock.”
“Coming out from the Chicago Art Institute and its collection of French moderns, we saw Michigan Avenue with its jagged towers in a late afternoon light, a street that might be reproduced in diagonals and triangles of sunshine and shadow. Chicago is the modern city, a city that is eliminating the superfluous. For Chicago…a modernistic print…because “Chicago is animated, brisk jocose. A city that might be painted in vigorous straight lines and angles in the modern school.” The three women, Conover, Roberts and Dillon went on to produce solid clothing designs, books and magazine articles for decades. Their career work during the 1920s laid exemplary professional foundations for all women.
Illustration by unknown artist for “Porch Teas” July 1926 issue of “Women’s Home Companion” at thegildedtimes.wordpress.com
F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby did not receive the greatest reception when it was first published during April of 1925. Perhaps that’s because the words hit just a little too close to home for many readers back then. Yet, today, we love Mr. Gatsby and romanticize about an era when people took the time to breathe and relax on a warm summer’s day…a time when friends and newly made acquaintances shared food, ideas and news during conversations amongst themselves…and in person.
Pleasantries and polite teas were required for healthy socializing, according to the article entitled Porch Teas, written by Woman’s Home Companion food editor, Alice Bradley, July 1926. Bradley was a respected chef and taught alongside Fannie Farmer for most of her career. At this time, she was Principal at Miss Farmer’s School of Cookery, located at Huntington Chambers, 30 Huntington Avenue, Boston.
After Fannie Farmer suffered a fatal stroke, aged 57 during 1915, Alice Bradley purchased the business and continued in Farmer’s footsteps. She worked to inspire every day housewives and nurses about the importance of nutrition and cookery arts. She taught women chefs until the school closed during the mid-1940s.
These are some of Alice Bradley’s recipes….
Rhubarb Frappé is one of summer’s joys when served slushy, and icy cold in frosted glasses. There’s not a strawberry in sight! Instead, a small amount of freshly squeezed orange juice brings out the strong, fresh rhubarb flavor and color. Recipe from “Porch Teas” by Alice Bradley, July 1926, “Woman’s Home Companion”. Photograph by J. Henri @thegildedtimes.wordpress.com
Frappés were highly favored, frosty beverages served during the Roaring Twenties. Everyone had ice boxes or if you were wealthy enough, you might even afford one of the very first electric, domestic refrigerators sold during 1926 for a mere $285.
So this slushy, frozen, fruity concoction was relatively easy to create and certainly welcomed by anyone. If you were not temperance minded, then these flavorful drinks could easily cover the taste of otherwise bristling home-made alcohol, which was also quite illegal then.
After testing Alice Bradley’s specialties in our studio kitchen, we discovered that her 1920s recipes are surprisingly simple to make, inexpensive and require few ingredients…and each recipe is uniquely flavorful…downright delicious, in fact.
We also found that the iced tea drinks, usually made with a powerful brew of black India Assam tea, gives an especially strong, caffeinated kick. After all, one doesn’t need alcohol to experience a buzz!
See the recipe for Black India Assam tea drink
called India Frappé in this week’s first post, dated July 20, 2014.
According to Alice Bradley, “Tea on the porch is one of the most delightful ways of repaying social obligations. Then too, it makes a pleasant ending for a club meeting or a bridge party.”
“With the tea, pass cream and sugar, quartered slices of lemon garnished with bits of candied cherry and whole cloves, or a spiced sirup (sic).”
Cream Cheese and Ginger Sandwiches
Mix cream cheese with
chopped Canton ginger and chopped nuts. Spread on bread and cut in finger-shaped strips.
Garnish with watercress.
Editor’s Note: These amazingly simple nutmeat with ginger finger sandwiches are inexpensive to make and surprisingly tasty. The recipe makes about 12 sandwiches or 4 servings.
Here’s a few helpful hints from our kitchen:
•We finely grated about 3 inches of fresh ginger root and added this, along with its juice, to soft cream cheese. •We used 1/2 cup finely chopped pecans or walnuts for this recipe. •The sandwiches stay together perfectly when the cream cheese mixture is spread over both slices of tea bread. •Place a single layer of fresh watercress leaves on one slice before closing the sandwich. •Be sure to trim off the crusts, then slice again into 4 long, thin strips.
1 fresh coconut 7 tablespoons sugar 2 tablespoons corn sirup Rose color paste 1 egg whiteGrate sufficient coconut to make 2 cups.
Put with corn sirup (sic) and sugar in top of double boiler, add color to make a delicate pink. Stir and cook until mixture clings to spoon. Add white of egg and cook until mixture
feels sticky when triedbetween fingers.
Spread in wet pan, cover with wet paper, and cool. Then chill by setting pan on ice in refrigerator. Shape into balls, first dipping hands in cold water. If 1-1/2 tablespoons of mixture are used for each,
10 cakes can be made. Heat a tin sheet slightly and rub with white wax,
paraffin or cooking oil. Place balls on sheet and bake in slow oven about 20 minutes, being careful that they do not lose their color.
•To simplify the process, we used finely grated, organic coconut from the baking section of our local grocery. To this, we added 2-3 tablespoons of water to moisten the coconut so that it was refreshed.
•We used superfine Baker’s sugar instead of coarse table sugar.
The measurements for both are the same.
•Inexpensive food coloring will create a lovely pink shade.
You should take time to mix this thoroughly. Please only use 1 drop.
•We baked this in a convection oven at 285 degrees for 20 minutes.
Coconut cakes should be removed *before* they turn golden brown.
•The recipe makes 10 bite sized cakes…but you’ll wish you had more!
1 quart rhubarb 3 pints water 1/3 cup orange juice 4 tablespoons lemon juice 1-1/2 cups sugar Few grains of salt
Cook rhubarb, cut in small pieces, with water until soft. Squeeze through double thickness of cheesecloth, add sugar and boil until sugar is dissolved. Add fruit juices and salt. Mix thoroughly and chill in freezer, surrounded with equal parts ice and salt. Turn crank intermittently, freezing to a mush. Serve in glass from punch bowl with a large block of ice, garnished with mint leaves. This recipe will serve 8 people.
•This is an unusual and very delicious, easy recipe!
•A fine mesh strainer or chinois will work
if you’re out of cheese cloth.
•Simply place drink mixture in a stainless steel bowl, and leave it in your freezer until mushy consistency. This recipe will make an amazing sorbet! •And about that pinch of salt…
it’s true you only need a pinch… those tiny grains will make that
fresh rhubarb flavor burst in your mouth!
U.S. Prohibition outlawed the sale of alcoholic beverages between 1920 through 1933. Recipes for elaborate non-alcoholic drinks began to appear in every magazine and newspaper, with the hope of quenching that nagging thirst…but it was a thirst that was only satiated within the world of underground speakeasies resulting in high stakes crime.
“Frappés are frozen just half-way between a punch and an ice”stated cooking author Mary Mason Wright in the July 1921 issue of The Designer and Women’s Magazine. She added that this beverage style could also be served as a substitute for soup courses during hot weather. The name is derived from the base of black india tea.
2 cups sugar 1 cup water
1 cup fruit juice: pineapple, currant, cherry, strawberry or grape
3 juiced oranges 2 juiced lemons
1 pint cold black india tea
crushed fresh raspberries or bananas
“Boil the sugar and water to a sirup (sic),
then when cool add the fruit-juices.”
“Add the tea and enough (additional) water
to make two quarts and freeze to a mushy consistency.
Then add a cup of crushed fruit.”
Add a sprig of mint and a slice of orange to garnish each glass.
…and for those who might enjoy a little 1920s speakeasy nostalgia…
simply add one shot of citrus infused vodka to each glass, and shake.
During the summery heat of 1921, Jay Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan were flickers in Fitzgerald’s eyes. His beloved Zelda was pregnant for most of that year. Undoubtedly by this time in July, she had started to yearn for the days when she could again fit into the silky, slinky attire such as what appeared in this fashion magazine from that year.
According to more than one account, Zelda Fitzgerald liked gold colored dresses….
“There is a tendency for longer skirt lengths…”
Those words in the caption to this fashion illustration address the glowing gold frock, to the far right. That new length was the latest fashion criteria for that year, the caption reads.
It was advised to follow sage Parisian style and simply add a longer, top layer to dresses. A matching tunic made from four, hand-embroidered panels would do the trick. It should reach several inches below the skirt’s hemline, and therefore satisfy trending lengths that were both en flux and de rigueur around that time.
“A bit of embroidery makes all frocks chic, even in so simple a design as this.”
The tunic’s leaf motif was executed eyelet fashion. The raised silk floss embroidery outlined many peekaboo holes. Instructions were given at the back of this magazine as to exactly how to do the hand embroidery at home.
All three designs in this illustration were made from silk crêpe de Chine or shantung. Cotton is mentioned as a possibility, but only in passing…and with a bit of a sniff.
It was the sheer, silk georgette blouse, worn by the model to the far left in the illustration, that made that ensemble come together. This was a seductive yet “practical summer mode.”
“The colors selected frequently make this combination suitable for the formal affairs of summertime.”
Accessories were equally divine with an embroidered, silk sun umbrella, bakelite bangles and creative, couture hats. The shoes were all dyed to match the tunic’s embroidery, or the colors of the dresses.
The golden dress is topped off with an ear tickling cloche. No, it’s not fur. The hat was entirely covered with the down taken from a black swan. Ahh, these were the dresses ripe for Daisy….
“Suddenly, with a strained sound, Daisy bent her head into the shirts and began to cry stormily.“They’re such beautiful shirts,” she sobbed, her voice muffled in the think folds. “It makes me sad because I’ve never seen such – such beautiful shirts before.”
Chapt 5, pp 118-119 “The Great Gatsby” by F. Scott Fitzgerald